Tuesday

The likeness between me and the Dole Salad Guide is uncanny (yes, an intended pun), and I suspect that Dole operatives have been stalking me in a concerted effort to usurp my identity. That is, unless I have a lettuce-hawking doppelgänger out there sullying my semi-tarnished name.

I am setting aside for the moment the inherent lack of value such theft would net the Dole Food Company as compared with, say, stealing the soul of Brad Pitt or George Clooney, two men with whom I am frequently compared. Clearly my visage must represent some sort of friendly and warm archetype for the Dole Food Company - could it be my years of experience teaching college students, or the fact that I helped raise a house full of children?

Perhaps it is my work with rescue dogs that makes my face the mug that Dole wants as a salad spokesperson. Maybe anyone who dogs love must have some secret marketing quality that endears salad-eating folks to trust his advice, like one would a person knowledgeable about the process of a CLA review.

At any rate, a hat tip to my sister Paula for finding this evil double. Now I am off to find out a way to profit from this eerie twin-and-famous brother I never knew I had.